Sunlight
by NoteDay
Summary: "I am not a caged bird, I've never even tried to sing. I am my own oppressor, and I cannot deny it." Will Boo come out of his house and catch a little sunlight now and then? -dropped- Even I'm not sure what's going to happen yet, ;) (Let's also pretend Scout never said that she wouldn't see Boo again)
1. Chapter 1

Nathan had just left for his walk to town, leaving yesterday's paper in it's usual place on the counter. Losing interest in the book I was re-reading for an unrecallable time, _The Wizard of Oz,_ I slowly make my way up from the living room couch, and headed towards the kitchen. I grabbed the newspaper, and shuffled up the stairs leading to the attic. There, I laid down on the wooden floor, and eagerly, I became immersed within the collection of stories. I smile, and begin humming. _How great it is to know that what I am reading is real, and that other people exist in this world besides for Nathan and I_.

It is winter, and hardest time of the year for me. Along with the weather outside, my world is frozen. Rarely anything stirs outside of my window, and Nathan hadn't talked to me very much, at least, not after I had left the house to help the Finch children. After reading the paper, I pick my favorite pictures and sentences for cutting out. The attic was old, dusty, and disorganized, but, one wall stayed neat and clean. This was the wall that I glued my newspaper scraps on. There, I had put the picture of Scout and Jem, whom were in the news following the attack by Mr. Ewell. Along with the image, I also had pasted the entire article. I was not mentioned within it.

I glanced out the window, and saw Nathan walking down the far side of the road.. Quickly, I gathered up the leftover scraps, waddled as fast as I could down the stairs, and left them in front of the door. I sit back down on the couch and begin reading my book once more. Nathan entered, rattling the lock on the door. After closing it, he stopped and looked down at the paper scraps. Slowly, his sight shifted to me, his face was mixed with pity and disgust; I wouldn't meet his gaze.

He bent down to collect the gift, and muttered something to himself. He looked jagged, as if a carpenter had made indents too deep, and decided not to waste time sanding him. He had stopped going outside all together after the "incident" and was just now beginning to take his walks again. This gave him slightly more color and life in his face.

I started rambling to myself as I read, few of the sounds that come out of my mouth ever form words. Nathan stared at me, but this time there was no pity, leaving only hateful feelings in his stern gaze. He had blamed me for our Mother's death, claiming that I had driven her mad. My family had always thought I was retarded, and I believed it myself. But, my actions have always had meaning, even if no one else ever looked for it.

 _Yay! First chapter! This is my very first Fanfic, I loved To Kill a Mockingbird but was absolutely devastated by the lack of Boo! I wanted to know more, but most of the Fanfic I saw were one-shots or about Scout. I plan to keep this ongoing (and long) so stay tuned! I am not too sure what's going to happen yet though, so sorry if the Categories are marked wrong, I am pretty sure that Boo's going to go against the book though and see Scout again. I also think he's gunna have a sweet tan, or at least a sunburn by the end of this FanFic!_


	2. Chapter 2

It is late in the night, and I lie in my bed, frigid and cold. I had gathered all of the extra blankets in the house, including the ones in the guest rooms, and piled them on top of me. Nathan hadn't taken or asked for any, and I would have given him some of mine if I had any strength to bring them to him. Shivering, I can't help but cough. I try to stop myself, as it is loud and only hurts my dry throat further. But, the more I try to soothe my lungs, the louder, and more painful the coughing fit becomes.

My head hurts, water, that's what I need. Dim light flows from the floor below, and up the attic stairs. _Nathan must be awake_. My coughing subsides, and I allow my eyes to close into an unrestful sleep.

*Thump thump* someone is clamoring up the stairs. I squint, I can't move, the pressure and heat from the mound of blankets is too great. *Thump thump* they are coming closer. My heart begins to beat faster, as I witness the shadowy figure of my father appear at the door to the stairs. He stumbles, coming closer towards me. His hand reaches for my neck, I holler, but no sound will come out. *Thump thump* panic stricken, I try to move my hand towards his face to push him away, but it is entangled in fabric. This time I try to scream, as his hand closes around my neck, pushing, pushing, harder and harder.

My eyes open once again, and Nathan is standing over me, wide-eyed. My throat burns, I must have actually screamed. I am nauseous, my breathing has turned into panting. I push my head away, unable to continue looking at him. I can no longer breath, and a sicking and bitter bile rises from my throat. I shiver, and Nathan shakes me. Drenched in sweat, I become even more uncomfortable when my face and neck are covered with the vile substance. I want to move, I want to wash myself. But it is cold again, and I can't find any power within myself to stay awake.

"I, as a doctor, simply cannot just _give_ you the medicine, let me see his condition, he may need further assistance, the entire house smells of sickness." I hear voices.

"I assure you Dr. Reynolds," says a voice flatly,"it is a minor fever, he only needs medicine, no more to it."

"I beg you Mr. Radley, let me through." Strong footsteps, followed by lighter, more timid stepping.

"Good god! You didn't even think of cleaning him off?"

"I figured he could do so himself after taking the medicine."

"Mr. Radley, I can already inform you that he's in a terrible condition. Look at his face! Even if this is merely a fever, it-it could kill a man who hasn't been outside in so long!"

The other man's voice hardened,"He's been outside enough recently."

"Hah!" the first man exclaimed distastefully,"he clearly requires help, and he certainly needs to build a stronger immune system if he plans on living his full-lifespan."


	3. Chapter 3

Nothing directly in my life has changed. But, the entire world behind my closed blinds has flooded with the green of regrowth. I had spent most of the winter in bed, recovering from my illness. Dr. Reynolds had entered our home only once after his first coming. His visit was brief and unexpected.

I had longed to exchange a casual "Good day." or even just hellos with him, but, I was fully conscious and was aware of my position. Sometimes a person's thoughts get in the way of his needs, and I found more comfort hidden in between clothes in my Mother's old wardrobe, than I ever could speaking to a grown man.

The doctor had asked Nathan to force me out of the house on one of his walks sometime, or to at least open a window or two. I had felt my jaw become tense, and perhaps, something deep inside of me regretted not being able to be the one asked to take _myself_ outside. But what did it matter anyway?

I am not a caged bird, I've never even tried to sing. I am my own oppressor, and I cannot deny it. My head hurts, and I become nauseated when I think of being seen by the people outside of my protective walls. Guilt is what I feel when thinking about my previous adventures in the night. And yet, I long for them again. I know that my fears are irrational, but I cannot overcome my feelings, they are the only thing I have left. And yet, even they are at the mercy of other people. These irrational anxieties are a part of me, driven into my brain and embedded in my bones by the ridicules of a dead man.

I was always told to think before I acted around others, but I realized long ago that I was incapable of doing so. My only option was to stop doing things, but now I hardly think at all. And, upon seeing the life outside, I can't even stop to oppress my actions. As quickly as I could manage, I hurry down the creaking stairs. Forgetting the socks that I was wearing, I find myself sliding down their wooden steps. In the moment of panic, I try to stop myself by reaching for the railing, but grab empty air instead. Now, I find pain in my head, and the hard ground beneath me.

Nathan is sitting on the nearby living room couch, too set on going to heaven to even glance my way. Slowly standing up, I begin to doing what I had intended to do when I rushed down the stairs. It's unlikely that anyone would see me if I opened the windows facing the backyard, and so I proceed to do so, nervously. Nathan became like Father when he read the Bible, I suppose it's the strongest thing I could ever relate to him. Father had loved that book more than he ever could have cared for his own children.

"Arthur," my brother finally says, but as if he were handling a child throwing a tantrum,"shut the blinds." I look away from him and continue twisting the rod to let more light in.

Nathan begins to rise from his seat,"You manipulative bastar-," he stops himself, realizing the words he was about to speak over our Father's own book. He covers up his mistake by coughing and sitting back down again.

"Arthur you're too old for this. Clos-*ehem*. _Please_ close the blinds." I don't reply. I hadn't done anything like this in so long, and despite knowing there would be consequences, I decide to try twisting the skinny metal rod a little further.

Mistake. He grabs me by the hair, some of it falls out when tugged. Not noticing, he leads me towards the front door. I watch as his free hand pulls the door open with violence, almost as if I was struggling. Fighting a hidden enemy, he pushes me outside with enough force to be a blow. And, in a daze, I can barely hear him shout,

"You want to be outside don't you?!" Then the door to my prison, my sanctuary, is slammed shut with enough force to wake the dead. My body aches, my breathing becomes faster. I feel as if I really am a ghost. The sun pierces through my transparent skin, leaving me nauseated. I stumble and crawl towards the only shaded corner of the porch, rotting splinters leaving snake bites in my bony palms. Unknowing of anything else to do, I curl up with my face in between my knees, and start to shake, feeling too helpless, and too vulnerable.

 _ **D: Oh my goodness, things are starting to look bad for poor little Boo-boo.**_


	4. Chapter 4

Maybe I never was _just_ afraid of the people outside. I think I am afraid of being outdoors simply because of what they are. Sitting on the porch, stiff and numb, makes everything feel real. I can't convince myself that I am merely a spectator anymore, a passing shadow. I have been tossed on stage, and a burning spotlight shines upon me.

Some people have too much to deal with all at once, that they start to forget how it used to feel. I haven't known love towards myself, and I never seeked to receive it. Most of my strongest companions haven't even been real, and I could only view them through the pages of books. One-sided love hurts, and I cannot remember a time when I haven't felt its pains.

My sheltered world is crashing down upon me. I'm **real** , and the green plant-life in my vision is **real** , _mine_. I can't recall ever feeling "sorry for myself" in the past, any such sympathy would have certainly been looked down upon by my Father. He seemed to deny everything that gave anyone happiness. But, at this time, I feel like the saddest thing to have ever lived upon this earth.

I remember something, something I had almost forgotten from spending too much time avoiding any thought I had to it. My father had gone mad, threatening me with a kitchen knife. He had told me that god above could never forgive him for raising a child like myself. I was a disgrace to the family, a devil's child. And, I was only there to cause him grief. Nathan had saved me, stabbed my father in the leg with a pair of scissors. But I was blamed, he had always been the favorite child. And now, I don't believe I ever could feel anger towards my brother. He had sacrificed the relationship he had tried so hard to cultivate, for a translucent person like me. After spending days in the Courthouse basement, suffering with guilt. I had realized that I always deserved it.

Nathan had left for Pensacola after I was released. Leaving me alone with a sick, delusional, dying father, and a mother whom saw nothing more in me than hate. When Father had finally passed, Nathan came back to Maycomb for his funeral. I would have gone, but it didn't feel right. Any thought of him caused me an irrepressible feeling of dread. I don't like the feelings I cannot control, but I suppose all of them are that way.

I hurt. I don't even know why. The blinding grief comes in waves, washing away my nervous feelings; causing me to become deaf to everything around me. It wrenches my mouth open begging me to wail, and fills my body with stones. My breaths are not real, they turn into the sighs of a man who has never been able to sing. I can only feel, and it's too much. My chest is heavy, I can't make it stop. Sighing more and more, faster and faster, trying to avoid the feeling as I always have been able to in the past. I apply my hands to the wound near my heart. Cold and tiring sweat flows from every point in my body but my eyes. I must truly be a devil's child, for I am unable to free myself from his grasp, and his cold yet fiery pits of hell.


End file.
